H.N.I.C.
Prodigy feat. Mike Delorean Lyrics
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It's the hottest shit on street
It move units like Shania Twain on a Mobb beat
The solar system stand still
Gods listen when I speak the world pay attention it's
Capital P, niggaz rather hang up
Ya niggaz know my handle, talkin like you straight thug
Dunn, I catch you while your shoppin for kicks
From now on, call me Columbo
Cause I come through wrinkled up, think I give a fuck?
Look at my chain, look at my anklet
But are you listenin to the words man? My shit bang kid
Nigga I run this shit, I set the trend, you get the dick
That's basically it
These rap niggaz think I'm talkin bout them, nigga please
You ain't in my leagues, follow my lead
I be the H.N.I.C.
The head nigga in charge
The boss, the Captain Crunch dog, the sarge
The M.O.B.B., the status - we large
The guns, the drama, the love, the Mobb
The H.N.I.C.
The Head Nigga in Charge
The guns, the drama, the love, the Mobb
The boss, the Captain Crunch dog, the sarge
The M.O.B.B., the status - we large
I'm all over, me and my dogs enjoy this
We pop bottles, celebrate your death blow a kiss
At your wittle bitch, wish pain on your kids
Piss on your casket kick ya tombstone and shit, dog
And I ain't even that foul type a dude
But all's fair in love and war it's whatcha hand called for
Now ya mans want to ride for your cause
But fuck it, they could get it too, simple as you
And I be God-damned if they put they hands on me
Money brings power and puts guns in parties
Sends niggaz on Amtrak with those for your body
It pays for thirty plane tickets if we got beef, huh
Hardly, you all know what that is
I grew up in the hoods and the projects wit dope fiends and crack heads
Teenage killers with Mack-10s
Best friends cut each other's throat and twist they own fan backwards
Maybe that'd live now I'm on some rap shit
Album sold out keeps me far from the big house
The hand guns from that bigger house
'Cause ain't nobody cuttin for me to enforce to hold it down like
The H.N.I.C.
The Head Nigga in Charge
The guns, the drama, the love, the Mobb
The boss, the Captain Crunch dog, the sarge
The MOBB, the status - we large
The H.N.I.C.
The Head Nigga in Charge
The boss, the Captain Crunch dog, the sarge
The MOBB, the status - we large
The guns, the drama, the love, the Mobb...
The lyrics to Prodigy's song "H.N.I.C." are a reflection of his sense of power and control in the rap game, as he asserts his position as the "Head Nigga in Charge." He boasts about how his music is the hottest on the streets and how it eclipses even the sales of country superstar Shania Twain when combined with the beats of Mobb Deep. He emphasizes his own importance and ability to command attention, claiming that even the gods listen to him and the world pays attention to him. He also talks about his violent nature, threatening to shoot people during impromptu shootouts, and wishing pain on people's children. He emphasizes his street credentials, growing up among drug addicts, teenage killers, and projects, and how his success as a rapper has kept him out of jail, and that he'll make anyone who tries to bring him down pay for it.
One interesting fact about the song "H.N.I.C." is that it is the title track of Prodigy's first solo album released under the same name. The album was released on October 22, 2000, and features collaborations with other rappers like B.G., N.O.R.E., and Big Noyd. The term "H.N.I.C." stands for "Head Nigga in Charge," which is also the name of the song. Another interesting fact is that the song was produced by The Alchemist, a rapper, and producer who is closely affiliated with Mobb Deep. The song has been included in several "Best of Prodigy" and "Best of Mobb Deep" compilation albums.
The chords for "H.N.I.C." are not typically noted as it is a hip hop track, and not a guitar-based track.
Line by Line Meaning
Yo, if this no better than this
I know this is the hottest thing on the street
It's the hottest shit on street
This is the most popular and sought out music
It move units like Shania Twain on a Mobb beat
It sells well, comparable to Shania Twain's best-selling records, with the Mobb's instrumental track as a backdrop
The solar system stand still
My voice is so powerful that it even stops the cosmos from moving
Gods listen when I speak the world pay attention it's
My talent is god-like and the whole world is compelled to listen to my words
Capital P, niggaz rather hang up
I'm the ultimate authority here, even other strong individuals have to defer to me
Ya niggaz know my handle, talkin like you straight thug
Everyone knows my name, don't pretend to be a tough guy
Dunn, I catch you while your shoppin for kicks
I'll catch you off guard when you're least expecting it
Surprise bitch, shoot outs is spontaneous and, oh
I'll surprise you with gunfire and it might not adhere to any pattern or plan
From now on, call me Columbo
I'm a detective that acts in a subtle, nonchalant manner
Cause I come through wrinkled up, think I give a fuck?
I'm too cool-minded to bother with looking straight all the time
Look at my chain, look at my anklet
Take a look at my expensive jewelry
But are you listenin to the words man? My shit bang kid
Pay attention to the lyrics, not just the beat
Nigga I run this shit, I set the trend, you get the dick
I'm the king of this industry, I dictate the trends, and lesser artists try to emulate me
That's basically it
That's all there is to it
These rap niggaz think I'm talkin bout them, nigga please
Other rappers think I'm dissing them, but they're not even worth my attention
You ain't in my leagues, follow my lead
You're not on my level, try to imitate me to improve yourself
I'm all over, me and my dogs enjoy this
I'm everywhere, enjoying life with my friends
We pop bottles, celebrate your death blow a kiss
We celebrate our enemies' demise by drinking and sending them a mocking kiss
At your wittle bitch, wish pain on your kids
We taunt your partner and wish for harm to come to your children
Piss on your casket kick ya tombstone and shit, dog
We disrespect you even in death, by urinating on your casket and kicking your tombstone
And I ain't even that foul type a dude
Despite my actions, I'm not actually a bad guy
But all's fair in love and war it's whatcha hand called for
I'm doing whatever it takes to win, just like in war
Now ya mans want to ride for your cause
Your friends want to take your revenge
But fuck it, they could get it too, simple as you
I'll go after anyone, whether it's you or your allies
And I be God-damned if they put they hands on me
I'll be furious if someone lays a finger on me
Money brings power and puts guns in parties
Money can give you influence and the ability to carry guns to high society events
Sends niggaz on Amtrak with those for your body
We'll even chase our enemies across state lines to ensure their demise
It pays for thirty plane tickets if we got beef, huh
I have enough money to send an entire squad across the country to handle a dispute
Hardly, you all know what that is
That's nothing to me, you know what it is
I grew up in the hoods and the projects wit dope fiends and crack heads
I come from a dangerous background, surrounded by drug addicts and dealers
Teenage killers with Mack-10s
Even teenagers were carrying automatic weapons
Best friends cut each other's throat and twist they own fan backwards
Loyalty meant nothing in my neighborhood; even closest friends were capable of murdering each other
Maybe that'd live now I'm on some rap shit
Maybe that kind of life was acceptable then, but now I'm focused on a career in music
Album sold out keeps me far from the big house
My successful album keeps me out of jail
The hand guns from that bigger house
I'm able to afford better quality firearms from my newfound success
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Written by: ALBERT JOHNSON
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind